A Venetian Vampire

“I do, as well. All sorts, but I am partial to jazz. Do you like to dance?” he asked.

“I do, but I don’t know how. I’ve always wanted to learn something like the tango.” She hooked her fingers on the backpack strap. The hardy weave and weight reminded her not to lose all caution. “I was on my way back to the hotel when I stopped for a quick drink. Not really dressed for dancing or partying. I’ll take a rain check, though.”

“Rain checks often go untended. How about another prosecco?”

“You’ll get me drunk.”

“Do you get drunk?”

“Not usually.” Vamps could consume a lot of alcohol with little affect on their sobriety. “But whiskey, straight from the vein, does make me sick. I learned that one the hard way.” She touched her chest. Never had she confessed such a personal detail about herself. It was too easy to be open in his presence. Relaxing into the conversation felt like stepping into his arms and settling in for a nice long snuggle.

“Vodka is my bête noire,” he offered. “I can’t stand a drunk bite. I prefer them healthy.”

“Me, too,” she agreed. “But I’m still learning, you know.”

She straightened and slid her hands down her ribs and to her waist, a weird habit she’d developed after putting on thirty pounds following her mother’s death. She still hadn’t lost the weight, but she had learned to embrace her curves. And use them to her best advantage.

A glance at Dante confirmed he was studying her with those mesmerizing eyes. Interested? If only she’d worn something more revealing than the pedestrian black turtleneck shirt and black leggings. Wow. Did she totally look like a cat burglar? What had she been thinking? Should have brought along a bright red scarf to tie around her neck after the deed had been done.

“So, tell me more about you, Dante. You are Italian, but I think the words you just used were French?”

“I am both. Italian on my mother’s side and my father was French. But I don’t mind speaking English. It is an interesting language.”

And her only option. “Where are you living?”

“I own a palazzo a short walk away, in the San Marco. It’s a vacation home. I spend most of my time in Paris. Though at the moment I am homeless in the City of Light. Sold my barge and waiting for my property agent to send me some new and interesting finds.”

“You lived on a barge? That sounds...actually, kind of smelly and wobbly.”

“You get used to shifting with the waves. And the Seine doesn’t smell that bad. It’s the tourists peeking in the windows all the time that made me decide to sell. This time of year they are like patrons peering in at the lone captive animal.”

Kyler laughed and leaned an elbow on the bar. Her body nudged closer to his. Their thighs hugged now. There was something electric about him, and it wasn’t the shimmer she’d felt with their handshake. The man oozed confidence and élan. Physically, he wasn’t her type. While muscular and seemingly strong, he was too pretty, too perfect. He could model for a top magazine, and women the world over would swoon.

She much preferred a man who looked average, acted average and wasn’t concerned about what others thought of him. An average Joe. Probably because that was all she’d ever dated. She’d never thought a man as handsome as Dante would give her a second glance. Yet she’d never ruled out flirting with any and all men. It made her feel sensual and alive.

“How long did you live in Paris?” she asked.

“Are you fishing about for how old I am? You can simply ask.”

She shrugged. “Okay. How old are you?”

“I was born in Paris in 1860. Well before Picasso.”

She quickly did the math quickly—over 150 years old. “I find it fascinating that immortality ages a person so slowly. It’s an amazing gift, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“But immortality does not mean you—we—can never die.”

“Yes, a healthy fear of stakes does serve a vampire a longer life. I am a youngster as far as living centuries goes. I love to experience everything. There are never days I would bemoan my existence.”

“I agree. Vampirism rocks.”

“There is so much to do in this world,” he continued. “So many adventures to be had. So many women to love.”

Of course, a man as attractive as him would not want for a girlfriend. But could he possibly be between lovers? “You have...many lovers?”

“At one time? Never. I am always exclusive. But if you are counting years, then of course I’ve had my share. I never kiss and tell, though. Each woman is a memory I forever cherish.”

“Sounds like I’ve met Casanova in the flesh.”

“Eh, he was too boisterous. Couldn’t stop himself from writing about his sordid affairs and sharing them with anyone who would listen.” He skated a finger around the rim of his glass, and Kyler sucked in a corner of her lip. The movement reminded her of a fingertip circling skin. “I’ll keep my secrets, thank you.”

Kyler was suddenly all about learning secrets. Or making new ones with a certain irresistibly sexy vampire. Her elbow slipped, and the backpack slid from her shoulder to the crook of her elbow.

“Shopping?” he said with a nod to the backpack.

“Sort of. Just a few trinkets.”

When she made to slide the strap back up her arm, he touched her again, wanting to help, and hooked the wide black strap over her shoulder. “That’s heavy for trinkets.”

“I should probably go,” she offered. Though the idea of walking away from such an intriguing man felt wrong. She enjoyed talking to him. But really, she shouldn’t risk sitting around with a valuable piece of art in her backpack. Or have him ask more questions she wasn’t willing to answer. “It’s getting late.”

“It’s just past midnight. Do you sleep much?”

She shrugged. “A few hours a night. I still cling to some of the more satisfying human rituals.”

“Six months you’ve been a biter?”

“Yes, though I’ve never heard it called that before. A biter?”

He shrugged. “A silly joke. It’s better than longtooth, yes?”

“Sure.” She’d heard that werewolves called vampires longtooth—a terrible slang word the vamps hated. She hadn’t experienced the whole vampire milieu long enough to know if it bothered her or not. Just owning fangs had taken a few weeks to become comfortable. Bite her lower lip much?

He tapped the goblet stem and asked, “Are you American?”

“Yes.” She turned on the stool, deciding to linger a little longer instead of the quick escape. “Is my accent that terrible?”

“The American accent is...quaint.” He smiled and his eyes glinted, full of moonlight. For a moment Kyler had to stop herself from leaning closer to him, sniffing, seeking his scent along the edge of his square jaw. “You’re a long way from home. Did your friend for whom you’ve gone on an art quest send you from the United States?”

“I’ve been living in Paris six months,” she said.

“I see. You were transformed immediately upon arriving?”

“Uh, yes. I don’t really want to talk about that.” She had to keep the theft a secret and any details about her transformation would ultimately lead to why she was in Venice.

“Sorry. I’ll change the subject. Have you taken a gondola ride?”

She glanced at the canal, which whispered by on the other side of a decorative iron railing laced with thick ivy. “It seems so touristy.”

“It is, but this time of year it is exquisite around ten in the evening when the last rays of sun glitter on the lagoon. With a bottle of prosecco in hand and perhaps a lover by your side?”

She lifted the goblet before her in a proposed toast. With more purr than tease, she said, “Now you’re making me wish I had a lover.”

He tinged his glass against hers. “I’d be happy to oblige.”

No tease in that statement. The man meant every word of it. And should she take him up on that offer, Kyler felt certain he would not disappoint.

Mercy, was her fantasy about to become reality?

“Kyler? I think I’ve said something wrong again. I tend to be direct. A woman deserves nothing less than truth, yes?”

“No. I mean, yes, I appreciate your directness.” She placed a hand on the back of his, which toyed with the base of his glass. “I—” she lowered her lashes and looked up through them “—was considering your offer.”

He turned up his hand to touch her fingers but didn’t clasp her hand. “A delicious end to a very good day?”

“Is that a promise or advertising?”

“I don’t need to advertise, chérie.”

“You certainly do not.” She laughed then because a giddy sort of surrender had settled into her muscles. She liked the man. Vampire. And there were so many things about him that made her want to get to know him. Much better.

He tilted a nod toward her. “Come closer, Kyler.”

Without reluctance, she leaned in and he touched her cheek. The shimmer again hit her with a shock of recognition. None of the humans around them could know two vampires sat talking to each other. His finger traced her ear and curled her hair over it. And his eyes walked over her face, taking her in, consuming her. They were so gorgeous. Devastatingly clear and direct. A hint of green danced within the blue, like sea glass.

Kyler opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She was enthralled. And she knew a vampire could not enthrall another vamp. Just wasn’t possible. They could work a number on humans, though, making them forget they’d been bitten, and that perhaps what had been two fangs puncturing their skin had instead simply been a nasty bug bite.

“I renege on my offer, Kyler,” he whispered.

It took her a few seconds to shake off the blissful daze his touch had led her into. “What?”

“About being a casual lover to celebrate your good day.”

“Oh...okay.” But then she felt her confidence and straightened. What was wrong with her? Not pretty enough? Too...quaint? “Why?”

“It would wound my pride to take you home and then know you would walk away the next day without a care to look over your shoulder.”

“Oh.” Was he implying he didn’t want a hookup, but rather something more? Interesting. But she didn’t know him, and she wasn’t willing to make such a commitment. “Isn’t that how Casanova does it? Love them and leave them?”

“It is. And truth be told, it is my modus operandi, as well.”

“Then it’s because you’re not attracted to me. That’s all right. I understand. It was nice talking to you—”

He clasped her hand and pulled it to his lips, where he pressed a warm kiss that overwhelmed the silly shimmer they shared and coursed over her skin with a heady intensity that would not allow her to do anything but sigh.

“Oh, I am attracted to you, Kyler. I cannot look away from your bewitching blue eyes that are not so sure if they should fear me or trust me.”

She looked aside. But then a bold twist of her head showed him she wasn’t afraid to meet his gaze.

“Or perhaps devour me.” He brushed the hair from her cheek. “You’re not sure what you want. You’ve never been with a vampire before, so I sense fascination coached with caution. Perhaps not enough caution? I would never ask a woman to betray her moral compass.”

Why bring morality into the mix? Couldn’t he simply be her reward for a job well done? She tended to dive into things and think about them later. Life had always demanded she challenge herself. To be the best. To learn new things. To steal if needs must. To never be afraid.

To soar.

So she leaned in and spoke near his ear. “I am quite sure I want you, Dante.”

“Why? Is it as I presume? Because I am vampire?”

“Yes, and...” He was a Casanova, and she’d fallen under his spell. And he was a challenge she wanted to leap for. “Because you compel me. And I don’t think it’s because of what we are. Sure, a bite would be nice. As you’ve guessed, I’ve never been with another vampire. But beyond that? I want to feel you.” She pressed her hand against his chest. “On my skin.”

A playful smile tugged at one corner of his perfect lips. “And here I thought I was the Casanova?”

“I’m not afraid of asking for what I want. Truth? I’ve never done anything like this before. But it feels right. Take me home with you, Dante.” She pressed her mouth lightly to his and whispered, “Let’s celebrate a good day.”

Chapter 2

Dante’s place was but a ten minute walk away. And while he wasn’t averse to hotel rooms, he preferred the homey comfort of his palazzo when entertaining such an intriguing woman. Along the way, Kyler had clasped his hand, and together they had almost run through the gaily lit, bustling Venetian streets. It was an exhilarating night. The moon sat high in the chrome-blue sky, and the air was heavy with the promise of rain. Streetlights beamed golden ribbons across dark palazzo windows and striped emerald hedgerows with glossy gold bands.

The woman with the curvaceous frame and lush, black Audrey Hepburn hair had suggested they have sex. It was his charm that had enticed her. Yes, he had it in spades and wasn’t afraid to wield it to get what he wanted.

And tonight? He wanted Kyler in his bed because that’s how he needed things to go down to accomplish his task. The surprise fact she was vampire was not so much a bonus as a creative challenge to his well-honed art of seduction. He rarely slept with vampires.

And yet he wanted her as much as she seemed to want him. Was he the one being led to bed by a new vampiress curious for the sexual bite?

Well, that was the challenge. If he bit a woman while having sex, he never saw her again. It was the way he rolled. And generally the bitten was human, or some other species of the paranormal. He had only once bitten another vampire. Too much was involved with such a piercing, such as emotional bonding. He didn’t need that kind of headache. Or the heartache.

Though he might like a taste of new blood. Just a little? Dare he break his decades-old rule of never indulging in vampire blood again? What could a sip hurt?

Ah! What was he thinking? He mentally walked five steps ahead of himself. This night must be carefully orchestrated. He mustn’t lose focus on the goal. And he must ensure she did.

“I live here,” he said with a tug at her hand to divert her from walking farther. The sidewalk was moist most of the time due to the proximity to the canal, and it gleamed black. He shoved the key in the lock on the palazzo door.

Kyler’s body heat hugged his arm and leg as she snuggled in close, wrapping an arm across his chest. It was an easy closeness that he would normally attribute to a few glasses of prosecco. But she wasn’t drunk. And he was glad for that.

“You smell great,” she said. “Like a wild autumn night.”

“And you curl about me like a kitty cat.” He’d never cared for the feline species. Until now.

He opened the door, and before he could invite her inside, she kissed him there on the threshold. Bold, unexpected and only a little tentative. She was finding her way, not afraid to dive into the unknown. Could she handle him?

Perhaps he should wonder if he could handle her.

What was he thinking? Of course he could.

“You’re not afraid of cats, are you?” she asked.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” he murmured against her mouth. “Come in.”

With the proper invite into his home, the vampiress crossed the threshold, and Dante lifted her. Chest to chest, she wrapped her legs about his hips and swung her backpack onto the eighteenth-century tufted jacquard divan pushed up against the wall. She sought his kiss hungrily.

Dante eyed the backpack as he closed the door. It would be fine there. However, he would not be fine until he’d stripped this woman bare and made a thorough exploration of every inch of her skin.

* * *

Dante carried Kyler to the top of the stairs and into the bedroom. Rain spattered the windows, shrouded by sheer white curtains. The palazzo was dark, but moonlight illuminated this room brightly. Kyler had time to notice a bed with a white comforter and a chair with gray fabric as he set her down on the bed and then stepped back.

He stood there looking at her, unabashed sex clothed in a stylish suit and classy red tie. Drink me in with your eyes, she thought. The darkness shadowed half his face, and while that made it easier to stand in front of his admiration, it also made her want to see all of him. To share the admiration.

“Kiss me,” she said, fighting a nervous rise in her voice. She would not punk out on this opportunity. Being a little nervous with a new lover was okay, she told herself. She tapped her lips. “Come here, vampire.”

“You don’t like me looking at you?” He adjusted the tie knot, loosening it a bit.

“I do. But you can look much better with your fingers.”

“True.” He leaned over her and tangled his fingers into the ends of her hair. “Lush and soft. Like you. Alone in Venice on an art expedition. How I do want to discover what makes Kyler Cole tick. I’ll start with unwrapping you.”

He slid her turtleneck up her stomach and over her breasts. Her hair spilled in static snaps to her bare shoulders, and she was thankful she’d worn a lacy demi bra. The lace-trimmed edge danced just above her nipples, and the rosy buds hardened under Dante’s warm and desirous gaze.

He leaned in, the red tie tickling her stomach, and when she thought he’d kiss her above her breasts—and she lifted them expectantly—he instead hushed an exhale over her skin. A breath of desire. A shiver of want tightened her nipples. At her sides, her fingers curled into wanting claws and then relaxed. Heartbeats quickened.

Dante’s tongue lashed her skin a teasing three inches away from the lace bra. Her moan was unstoppable.

“You sound like the kitten you are,” he said as he wrapped an arm across her back.

As he glided his fingers up her stomach and rib cage to the base of her bra, Kyler gripped the tie and pulled him closer. The silken weave of his suit playing across her skin made her wonder whether or not she wanted him to get naked or stay clothed. Suit against flesh was an exotic sensation that heightened her desire even more.

He kissed her on the mound of a breast and nuzzled his nose across her skin, taking in her perfume. Yet she wore none. Couldn’t risk giving herself away tonight had she gotten close to human guards at the auction house.

The auction house. She’d abandoned the backpack downstairs without a care. She really should—

Kyler gasped as Dante’s lips closed over her nipple, still covered by the black lace. The heat of him and the firm pressure as his tongue teasing through the lace undid her rational thought. Whatever she’d been worried about mattered less than falling into his attentive discovery.

One of his hands pushed down her black leggings, beneath which she did not wear panties. She’d been going for a seamless look. He growled his appreciation at that and then nudged down the lace bra cups to fully take her nipple into his mouth.

Mercy, if it didn’t go any further than this, she’d be a happy woman. But tonight, happy had already been superseded by elation. So she was in it for the win. And an orgasm or two.

Hiking up one of her legs along his thigh, Dante grasped her ankle and held her there. He suckled at her nipple, lazing his tongue in circles and then sucking hard. He indulged in her. He’d likely had a lot of practice in pleasing women—no!

She wasn’t going to think like that. It was just the two of them. And she intended to enjoy every moment of his attention.

Shoving the suit coat from his shoulders, Kyler was able to shimmy it down his arms even as he drew a wet, exploratory line to her other nipple. He managed to unhook her bra in the back, and it fell away. She was now completely naked, and he was still dressed.

Dante pulled back to look at her. A sexy, know-too-much smile curled his mouth, preceding a low, whispery growl. He had her right where he wanted her.

And she was good with that.

Kyler leaned up onto her elbows and crooked a finger, inviting him to join her. When he stepped forward, she waggled that finger in a naughty admonishment.

“First, you get naked, too,” she said. “I want to look at you as you’ve been looking at me.”

“I can do that. But you won’t mind if I pick up my coat, will you?” He bent to retrieve the abandoned piece of clothing, then carefully folded it and placed it over the back of the tufted Louis XIV chair near the window. He turned, unbuttoning his cuffs. “I appreciate the lines of a well-tailored suit.”

Kyler leaned her head against her palm. “I appreciate the lines of a well-honed male.”

Pulling away the red tie with a fling, he relegated it to the top of the folded suit coat. A few expert flicks of buttons released the crisp white business shirt from protecting his sculpted lines and curves. Hard muscles pulsed with his movement, and the rise of prominent hip bones drew her eye to the angled muscles that arrowed toward his crotch.

Kyler murmured a satisfied coo. “Nice.”

Dante paused, his fingers teasing at his trouser buttons. “If you’re going to narrate my undressing I’m not sure I can continue.”

“Really? You are the last person I would expect to be shy. But I can keep quiet.” She drew pinched fingers across her lips.

Dante nodded, gifting her with the rest of the show. Beneath the trousers he wore briefs that hugged—oh, a nice-size package. And it, too, pulsed beneath the fabric, teasing her with what might be revealed.

“Wait,” she said with more enthusiasm than his surprised look showed he was comfortable with. “Come here and let me help you with that.”

She sat up as he approached. Gliding her palm down his chest, she reveled in the warmth of his skin and muscles. Hadn’t she always thought vampires were supposed to be cold, dead creatures? Certainly she had not grown colder over the past half year. And being proven wrong once again was all right with her. Her fingers skimmed over Dante’s abdomen, a six-pack of ridiculously hard muscle. Each ridge tensed at her touch, begging her to move slowly, enjoy the sensation.

And then she moved her fingers downward and cupped over his briefs, drawing a hiss of pleasure from him. A squeeze to the form beneath her palm tested its hardness and heat. As he grew more erect, his penis bulged out the waistline of his briefs, and Kyler was able to slide a hand inside. She slid her other hand down the back of his briefs, easing them slowly over his buttocks. The weight of his steely erection in her hand made her feel powerful. Sexy. Wanton.

She giggled and then, before he could protest, tilted up her head to meet his mouth with a kiss. Hard and demanding and needy. As she worked her hand up and down over his erection, summoning him, coaxing him, she fed her own needs by dancing her tongue against his.

Every part of her being hummed. Her core spun in an apprehensive, wanting coil of soon-to-come fireworks and just-hold-off-a-bit warning. So she pressed her thighs together, staying the orgasm that already cried out for release.

Dante crawled over her and onto the bed, and she followed his direction, lying back, yet not releasing his hard, tight cock. She needed to feel him inside her. With that delicious thought, the curiosity to also feel his fangs inside her emerged.

“Show me your fangs,” she whispered.

“You’re not ready for that, Kitten.” A flash of lightning sparkled around the room brightly and blinked out, darkening Dante’s gaze above her. “Let’s do this slowly, shall we?”

And as a whimper of protest teased at the edge of her tongue, Kyler surrendered to his command. How could she not? His fingers slipped between her thighs, and as she noticed the first touch of his index finger to her clitoris, she was surprised by the overwhelming release of orgasm that rushed up in a gasping cry of joy. Her body shivered and shook beneath his.

And she forgot about the bite.

“You come like the lightning,” he said against her ear. “And you smell like rain and prosecco. I will always remember you this way.”